Whenever, Wherever
by Kjb2609
Summary: A collection of Captain Swan one shots set in AU worlds - because these two will fall in love whenever or wherever they are. Ratings will vary.
1. Chapter 1

_**A/N: Written for my dear friend Kat on the occasion of her birthday.**_

When Regina Mills had asked for a 'volunteer' to take on the first aid officer role on their floor, Emma Swan had found herself thrown under the proverbial bus by several of the colleagues she had once counted as friends. Sure, she had taken some courses - she was mom to an adventurous ten year old, after all - but she hardly thought that qualified her to take on the care of an office full of adults.

Apparently her boss thought differently.

Turned out it wasn't an onerous job. Thankfully the incidents requiring her services so far had proven to be minor- a band aid here, a paper cut there - but there _was_ one major obstacle that she hadn't seen coming. A tall, dark haired obstacle with ridiculously blue eyes and manicured scruff, all wrapped up in an accented package with an apparent tendency to hypochondria.

Or that was what Emma was telling herself. Firmly.

Killian Jones' artfully dishevelled head appeared over Emma's cubicle one morning, hand outstretched and a mischievous smile plastered across his face.

"It appears I am in desperate need of your medical services, Swan." His smirk made Emma roll her eyes, taking his hand in search of said injury. Finding nothing, she made a point of putting her glasses on for a second look before staring questioningly at him.

And if there was a little spark of _something_ as she held his hand in hers, that was nothing that couldn't be ignored.

"Give me a hint, Jones." God knew she had work to do and no time for flirtatious Englishmen.

He had the nerve to pout at her. "Surely you can see the gaping wound of my paper cut."

She couldn't.

"Well, Jones," she sighed," Today I am offering my patented 'chopping off pathetically injured fingers with old rusty scissors' service. Interested?"

He clutched at his heart dramatically and she felt the now familiar urge for an eyeroll come over her. "You wound me, Swan," he declared, the wicked grin on his face having absolutely no effect on the first aid officer.

No, none at all.

"If I wounded you, you really would need first aid. So be careful what you wish for." The corners of her mouth twitched as she noted the slight flare of his nostrils and the sharp intake of breath at her words.

She had some game herself. What was the harm in using it?

Unsurprisingly, he wasn't off balance for long. "Indeed, love, I am always very sure about my wishes, especially where a beautiful woman is concerned." The wink that accompanied this sent a flush of warmth straight to her cheeks and she turned back to her monitor to avoid his gaze.

His laughter was considerably more distant before she looked up again.

* * *

The paper cut was just the first in a long line of 'serious' injuries that required Emma's immediate attention. The stubbed toe was unfortunate, but hardly life-threatening and the burnt tongue from his morning coffee just received a disbelieving head shake as she headed for the elevator.

Each new ailment came with a solid dose of Jones charm and innuendo, and Emma was surprised to find herself looking forward to seeing what new disaster had befallen him each day. He was a master flirt, and if she were to be honest - which she absolutely was NOT if anyone asked - there was something about their interactions that had her thinking about him in her quiet moments. Thinking things that brought a flush to her cheeks and a tug low down in her gut that was getting harder to ignore.

So when David called out that Killian needed first aid, she was unprepared to find him slightly pale and obviously in pain, clutching his arm to his chest. His usual cocksure expression was gone; in its place a furrowed brow and bottom lip caught by his teeth as he breathed deeply to manage his discomfort.

The concern must have been clear on her face because he attempted his usual smirk, but the effort was too much.

"Well, Swan, seems I am actually in need of your services today." His voice was strained and when she touched his skin tentatively he flinched.

"Hit your funny bone, Jones?" she asked, desperate to maintain some semblance of normality to their interaction. Seeing his handsome face contorted in pain, with no sign of his usual banter or eyebrow waggling was disconcerting. As was the urge to reach up and stroke his cheek in an attempt to comfort him.

"It does not feel particularly funny, I must say," he answered through gritted teeth. "Apparently the game of office basketball with Dave was ill advised. As was using my left arm to break my inevitable fall."

Emma examined the arm carefully, trying to not be aware of how close she was to him. Or the spicy tang of his aftershave. Or the little buzz of _something_ she felt when he grasped her own arm to steady himself when the pain became too much. "This one is a little out of my skill set," she admitted. "But I can make it a bit more comfortable." Turning to David, who was hovering nervously behind her, she said, "Are you able to take him to the emergency room? I think he'll need an x-ray." David nodded and left them to get his keys.

Digging into her first aid kit, Emma retrieved a triangular bandage and slipped it gently under his elbow and around his injured arm. He breathed in sharply as his arm shifted and she looked questioningly at him, but he shook his head quickly so she knew he was all right. She reached around his neck to tie the sling, his breath tickling her ear as she leaned over him, sending a shiver down her spine.

She stepped back quickly, before the unexpected temptation to comb her fingers through the dark hair at the nape of his neck overtook her, but he reached out to take her hand. Their eyes met for a moment before they both spoke at once.

"Swan, I…"

"That should hold it…"

Their words were swallowed as David barrelled into the room, his car keys held aloft and Killian's satchel slung over his shoulder. The uncomfortable silence had him looking from one to the other, a sly smile playing at the corners of his mouth.

"Sorry to interrupt," he smirked, "but we had better get the basketball hero to the hospital. Say goodbye to Emma, Killian."

Emma waved as the two men disappeared between the cubicles.

* * *

It had only taken a brief moment of distraction for it to happen. One minute she had been slicing a tomato for her lunch, the next she felt a sharp sting as the knife slipped and cut the flesh of her palm. Nothing at all to do with the company picnic photos displayed on the fridge, Killian Jones in shorts and sunglasses, trying to teach David the basics of cricket.

"Shit!" she exclaimed as blood began to seep from the wound. Emma looked in her immediate vicinity for something to stem the flow but there was nothing fit for first aid purposes nearby.

Someone really needed to take those dish towels home for a wash.

Her voice must have carried more than expected because Killian's head appeared around the corner of the kitchen door, his brows furrowed in concern.

"All right, Swan?" he began, before taking in the situation before him. Emma held her hand outstretched, making a futile attempt to put pressure on the wound with her other hand. He was beside her in a minute, eyes searching the kitchen counters and clearly coming to the same conclusion she had.

His injured arm was strapped across his chest - x-rays had shown a small fracture - but he took her hand in his available one and looked closely at the cut.

"How have you managed to do that to yourself, Swan?" he asked, his voice calm and reassuring.

"I was distracted for a minute," she replied, trying and failing to keep her eyes from wandering towards the photos that had been her undoing. He followed her gaze and grinned wickedly when he saw the source of her distraction.

"Well, if I am to blame for your injury, love, it seems only right that I should tend to it." Emma went to protest, to say she was reminiscing about David's inability to keep the cricket bat down, or how silly the game had seemed, but before she could utter a word Killian had whipped the pocket square from his vest and had placed one end across her palm. Holding it with her good hand, she watched, mesmerised, as he wrapped the fabric around and around before tucking the ends under. He paused for a moment, looking directly at her, his blue eyes so intense she could not look away, before taking the end of the makeshift bandage in his teeth and pulling it tight.

His gaze never left her and Emma felt her knees buckle as she watched his mouth grasp the fabric and pull without missing a beat, warmth pooling in her belly as she fought hard against the desire to grab him by the collar, albeit one handed, and kiss the ludicrous smirk right off his face. She leaned back against the counter to steady herself as he closed her fingers slowly over the bandage, his voice almost a low growl. "How was that, love?''

She would blame the blood loss for lowering her resistance, if anyone ever asked.

Her hand in his hair as she pulled him into her waiting lips was all the answer he was going to get.


	2. The Code

On the occasion of my gorgeous friend the-lady-of-misthaven's birthday, I went in search of a prompt. This one spoke to me...

 _ **"**_ _ **I use morse code to talk to my friend during class but it turns out you know morse code too and now you know that I think you have a cute butt" au**_

It remained one of Ruby's more insane ideas - and yet it turned out it was also one of the most practical. When her friend had suggested they learn morse code as a foolproof way of communicating in class back in their middle school days, Emma had never imagined it would be coming in handy some ten years later as she sat in a seedy bar, drink in hand, waiting for her terminally late friend to arrive.

Because she was almost one hundred percent certain the two guys sitting next to her were using it to have an in depth discussion about the merits of buying her a drink.

If Ruby had been on time, she would never have noticed the rhythmic tapping but as she became more irritated with being kept waiting, every little noise around her began to grate. Emma turned to glare mercilessly at the culprit, but found herself sucking in a sharp breath of disbelief at the instant tug of attraction she felt low in her belly when her green eyes met a pair of sparkling blue ones.

She had never turned her head away so quickly, but she cast what she hoped was a surreptitious glance back at them, just to confirm her initial reaction. The older man with the curly hair was certainly attractive enough, but the tousled dark hair, ginger scruff and perfectly fitted jeans on the younger man were jaw dropping, even to one as cynical about men as Emma Swan.

And she was _very_ cynical.

Just not dead yet.

It was while she sat taking some much needed deep breaths that she realised the noise that had drawn her attention to them was more purposeful than it appeared at first. Tuning in, she started to recognise the patterns of dots and dashes.

 _Jesus, brother, she's stunning._ Emma smiled despite herself when she realised this came from the ridiculously hot one. It crossed her mind that she should, perhaps, be outraged at them secretly discussing her but for now she would take the compliment. And ignore the fact that she and Ruby could just as easily be the conspirators in this situation. _Had_ been the conspirators in situations just like this.

 _Would_ have been if Ruby had the ability to tell the time.

 _Go talk to her, you plonker_. Emma frowned at the unfamiliar epithet, as Mr Ginger Scruff ran a hand through his hair, leaving it crumpled and looking for all the world like he had just rolled out of bed. She swallowed hard at that thought. They must have the heating turned up in this place, because Emma Swan didn't have hot flushes at the mere thought of an attractive man. Yet she could feel the colour rise in her cheeks as she tried to look nonchalantly past them, towards the door. Where the hell was Ruby? she thought. A dose of flirtatious brunette would put a stop to this nonsense once and for all and she could resume her normal program of scaring away potential admirers with her well practised glare.

Because at this moment, left to her own devices, all she wanted to do was yell at him to listen to his brother and come talk to her.

 _Can't_. His long fingers wrapped around his glass, and he swirled the amber liquor lazily around before taking a long swig. Emma fought the urge to stare, taking out her phone instead and pretending to be preoccupied with scrolling her messages, or email, or anything, really that wasn't gaping open mouthed at how hot the silver ring on his thumb looked as he held the glass.

Oh God. She was in deep trouble.

 _Won't. Coward._ Scruffy McGee - maybe ridiculous nicknames might diffuse this heat - shrugged and glanced regretfully in Emma's direction as his companion shook his head sadly. Amidst the haze of attraction, she wondered what could possibly have a man who looked like _that_ so uncertain about approaching a woman in a bar?

 _Calling the barman. Drink for the lady?_ There was no response.

The older man called the barman over and ordered another drink for them both, and Emma closed her eyes in disbelief as he spoke. That was an accent. Of course it was. And the international male model there would be sure to have one too. Brother, he had said.

Deep, deep trouble.

 _Are you not attracted to her?_

 _Sod off._ Emma chuckled at this reaction and both men looked at her strangely. She busied herself with her phone, hoping to maintain the pretence of her focus being on the device.

 _Did she laugh at us?_ There was an anxious edge to the tapping, his blue eyes full of concern.

 _Course not, who knows morse?_

There was a disturbance at the door as a whirlwind of dark hair and short skirt barrelled into the room. Spying Emma by the bar, Ruby made a beeline for her, and all but threw herself onto a stool.

"Sorry Ems, you know how it is." She indicated to the barman for a drink, as her dark eyes roved the room before coming to rest on the brothers at the adjacent stools. Her back to them, Ruby's eyes widened and before Emma could stop her, her long red nails were tapping furiously on the bar.

 _Jesus, look at those two!_

Emma gasped and bit down on her bottom lip as the two men turned and looked at her, open mouthed. Ruby looked from Emma to their neighbours in confusion as Emma tried to look apologetic.

"Sorry?" she said with a shrug before being unable to contain the burst of laughter she could feel bubbling any longer. Ruby was dumbstruck - quite the achievement - as she watched her friend gasp for breath, tears streaming from her eyes. The younger brother's face flushed crimson as the older smirked before erupting into laughter that matched Emma's, steadying himself against the countertop.

"I don't know what the hell is going on," Ruby grinned, "but it looks like my kind of party. "

Calming himself, the older brother held out a hand to Ruby and Emma in turn.

"Liam Jones," he said, "and this is my brother, Killian. You know morse code?"

"Ruby Lucas and Emma Swan. It was great for talking in class." Ruby shot back, clearly sizing up the situation. " _You_ know morse code?"

"Naval officers," Killian replied. Emma hardly noticed the hard squeeze of Ruby's fingers on her shoulder at that answer, lost in an overwhelming vision of Killian in an officer's uniform. _Killian._ Even his name sounded dangerously attractive.

Killian held out a hand to Ruby, who winked wolfishly at him as she shook it before he turned to Emma. The tips of his ears still had a pinkish tinge as he took her hand, but nevertheless he brought it to his lips and placed a soft kiss on the back of her fingers, his eyes not leaving hers for a second. Emma prayed the soft shudder of desire was in her imagination, that he hadn't felt it.

He hadn't let go of her hand, though.

Until Ruby reached in and took control. She grabbed Killian's hand, holding it palm up in hers as Emma looked on questioningly. Experience told her to be at least a _little_ concerned about where this was going. Ruby was looking intently at Killian as her highly polished fingernail tapped determinedly on his outstretched hand.

"Well Mr Jones, I am sorry to tell you that I need to steal the lovely Ms Swan away - we have places to be this evening that don't involve naval officers, no matter how handsome." Before Emma could protest, the same fingernail that had been working on Killian's hand was against her lips to silence her. Emma watched as something changed in Killian's face, a wide grin appearing that crinkled the skin around his eyes in a way that made her breath catch. Was Ruby kidding?

It appeared not as she placed an arm around Emma's shoulder and led her towards the door of the bar, pausing only to look back over her shoulder at the brothers. "We'll see you again, gentleman. Good night."

When they hit the cool air of the outside, Emma wheeled on Ruby, eyes flashing. "What the hell, Ruby? I didn't even get his number."

Ruby grinned wildly. "No, but he's got yours. If you weren't so busy staring into those ridiculous blue eyes you would know that I wouldn't leave you hanging." A vision of Ruby's fingers tapping against Killian's hand flashed into Emma's head and she shook her head at her friend, chuckling softly. Until a thought hit her.

"And if he didn't get the code?" Emma tried to hide the note of panic in her voice, but before Ruby could answer, her message tone sounded.

 _Tell Miss Lucas I got her message. I'll call you tomorrow, Swan._ _**_._**_


	3. Cross Them Off

**Based on this prompt: My stupid friends roped me into a mall scavenger hunt and you're on the list" AU**

 **Written for the birthday of my dear friend captain-k-jones. Posted on Tumblr as two parts but I have kept it as one here.**

"Okay, everyone, grab a list." Ruby raised her voice to be heard over the crowd in the restaurant, as she handed colourful sheets of paper to all the women in their party. "The rules are simple. We hit the clubs and you collect the things on your lists. Photographic evidence preferred. And never let it be said I didn't show you all a good time at this Bachelorette party!"

Already less than excited about the prospect of a night of high heels and thumping music, Emma Swan turned the purple paper over cautiously, flinching slightly at the title in its 50 point ridiculous font. "Bachelorette Bingo" it exclaimed, eliciting excited hand clapping from the bride-to-be, Mary Margaret, and a sigh of defeat from Emma. Her friends were comparing notes, giggling and laughing loudly but she was struggling to join in their excitement.

Especially when she cast her eyes over the list she had been given.

 _Someone with an accent_

 _Someone who has been on a boat in the last month_

 _A man in uniform_

 _Someone who plays an instrument_

 _A hottie...why not?_

 _Someone who believes in true love...bride and groom NOT included_

 _Something/someone that makes you laugh_

 _A cheesy pick up line that has worked_

 _Free space...something that catches your eye_

"So, Ems," Ruby said, draping an arm around Emma's shoulders and grinning widely at her, "Ready to play my little game?"

Emma narrowed her eyes at her friend. "True love?" she asked, her voice dripping with sarcasm.

Ruby laughed. "Thought you'd like that one. I needed something to represent our beautiful bride...and there's no truer love than those two." Emma couldn't disagree. Mary Margaret and her husband-to-be David Nolan were the most in love couple she had ever seen and it warmed even her hardened heart to see her friend so happy.

Still, true love was not for Emma Swan. She had learned the hard way about letting someone into her heart and it was not a trap she planned on falling in again.

"Just have a go, sweetie," Ruby whispered, almost as if she had seen into Emma's thoughts. "Let yourself go a bit and have a bit of fun. For Mary Margaret's sake at least."

Emma read over the list again and looked at Mary Margaret, who caught her eye and grinned, her eyes shining with champagne and excitement. It was contagious and Emma found herself smiling back just as widely.

"I'll play," she said to Ruby. "But don't expect me to enjoy it."

Ruby snorted. "Duly noted," she said, "No fun for Emma Swan."

* * *

The pub crawl bachelor party had been an inspired idea. Killian Jones knew the groom well enough to know that a night hunkered down in the same dingy booth would only lead to tears. Literally.

It would not be the first time.

Instead, they had a list of bars and clubs to visit - a game of pool, a dart board, even some karaoke if required - all the things he hoped would keep David from falling into an alcohol induced puddle of love, regaling them all with tales of the wonder of Mary Margaret Blanchard. She was, Killian agreed, a wonderful woman in every way, but this whole "true love" caper was not for him.

Not any more. Not since _her_.

But tonight was not about him. "Dave," he said. "The pool table is calling us, mate." Grinning, David threw down the rest of his beer and headed to the table, racking up the balls in preparation. He would have to keep an eye on that kind of behaviour, Killian thought, if they were going to make it through the night. He clapped David heartily on the shoulder. "Groom breaks," he said as he chalked his cue, circling the table for a good vantage point.

The balls clacked together - and went nowhere helpful. David shook his head as the other men gathered around, unafraid to laugh at his poor form, guest of honour or not. Another beer was placed in David's hands as Killian scouted for his shot, leaning deep over the table as he lined it up.

"I call next game," shouted Will Scarlet. "Take on the winner, I will."

As the ball rolled away and hit the bottom of the pocket without a problem, Killian grinned. "You're on."

* * *

The laughter over the bingo games had continued as the girls made their way into the first bar on their list. A jukebox played 80s rock in the corner and there seemed to be a lively game of pool happening at the large table towards the back of the room. Ordering a drink, Emma perched on a bar stool and cast another glance over the ridiculous list. And it _was_ ridiculous. Still, she had promised Ruby she would at least make an attempt.

There was a loud shout from the pool table, and Emma looked up just in time to see one of the players bent low over the table as he made his shot. Her eyes widened as she took in the dark skinny jeans and the firm, round butt they covered. She might struggle with true love as a concept, but that ass was something she could believe in, she thought to herself, a wide grin on her face.

A grin that didn't go unnoticed by Ruby who was quick to whisper in her ear, "Free space - something that catches your eye." Snatching Emma's phone, Ruby followed Emma's line of sight, laughing as she snapped the photo. "If the face matches that ass, you'll have your hottie, too," she said with a wicked wink, returning Emma's phone - after one last longing look. "But I thought we were doing no fun for you?"

Emma shrugged and smiled back at her friend. Ruby gestured pointedly at the list as she headed off to make sure the guest of honour was being looked after. There was never a dull moment with that girl, that was for certain. Taking a long sip of her drink, Emma looked back towards the pool table - not at all waiting to see if the face did match - and was surprised to see David Nolan, prospective groom, waving at her. She scanned the crowd of men around the table - recognising Will Scarlet and Robin Locksley before another familiar face came into view. Emma groaned audibly at the sight of the best man; - Killian Jones was always a bit _friendly_ for her liking. In that "I'm ludicrously good looking and I know it but I'm also quite charming" way.

 _Very_ ludicrously good looking. And wearing dark skinny jeans that made his ass look...

Shit.

Of course he was Mr. Free Space.

Emma comforted herself with the thought he would never know that piece of information - because the years of teasing in that damned British accent of his would be more than she could handle. She sucked in a breath and took her list from her pocket, smoothing it out from where she had crumpled it into a ball.

 _Someone with an accent_

The world was laughing at her, she was certain. But she had promised Ruby, so after swallowing the remainder of her drink, she headed towards the raucous laughter that was accompanying the game of pool.

She stood back a little, not wanting to barge right into the boys' celebration. He spotted her quickly and made his way over, all wide smile and sparkling blue eyes. "The Lady Swan!" he exclaimed. "To what do we owe the pleasure? Come to watch me slaughter the groom at pool?"

Emma shook her head and took her phone from her back pocket.

"At last," he announced, "come, Swan, hand over the phone. I will happily give you my number."

Emma raised an unimpressed eyebrow and he stepped closer to her, the cheeky grin of a moment ago giving way to something softer, more warm. If she didn't know better, Emma would have sworn he was genuinely glad to see her. Now slightly apart from his friends, his voice was different somehow, and Emma found she liked the unique rise and fall of his accented words.

"Can I help you with something, love?" he asked, crinkles forming by his eyes as he smiled at her.

"I need a picture of someone with an accent," she rushed out, slightly disconcerted by the flush she could feel creeping up her body. No man should be allowed to look that good and smell divine at the same time.

"Certainly, Swan." Killian draped an arm around her and she looked at him in surprise, but he merely gestured to her phone. "Set your timer, it's both of us or nothing. Those are my terms."

She shook her head at him, but took the picture with a tight smile, adding it quickly to a text with the words " Accent. Check." and sent it to Ruby. The reply came back almost instantly.

 _I'll give you 'hottie' too._

"Well, let's see it, Swan. Need to make sure your photographic skills do my devilishly handsome self justice." He stood and held out his hand, gesturing towards her phone.

Remembering the picture before the selfie they had just taken, Emma refused but did open the picture and hold the screen up to him. He assessed it carefully, nodding as she put the phone away in her pocket. "Not bad at all, love. If I do say so myself." He winked again and Emma ignored the tiny jolt of ...something...she felt as he walked back to the pool table for his shot.

God, he was infuriating. No one appreciated Killian Jones more than Killian Jones himself. Sweeping her eyes over his lean frame, she admitted he had reason to be proud - the perfectly fitted jeans she had already noted, but it worked with the dark shirt, the buttoned vest and the black leather jacket she imagined would be hanging somewhere. And then there was his face - piercing blue eyes, the carefully tended scruff, topped off with hair that could only be described as artfully tousled. Hair that she was trying very hard not to imagine running her fingers through.

"See something you like there, love?" came an amused voice. Emma's shoulders sagged as she realised Killian was again standing in front of her and she scrabbled desperately for some way to diffuse the situation.

"I was just wondering whether you actually own any other clothes?" she said, looking directly at him and refusing to let him know what she had really been thinking. Something in his face, however, made her suspect it was a pointless effort, but he seemed to play along.

"I suppose it is kind of a uniform for me."

Emma paused and a smirk came across her face. "Will you say that on camera?"

Killian looked confused, his eyebrow cocked in her direction. " Anything, Swan, but may I inquire as to why? First the accent and now this."

Emma breathed deeply, considering whether she admitted to the game or not. Mentally sweeping the list she decided discretion was the way to go. "Just something Ruby cooked up for the bachelorette party," she admitted. He nodded, understanding dawning at the mention of Ruby.

"Well, who am I to argue with the machinations of Ms. Lucas," he said with a laugh. "Your wish is my command." Emma activated her camera, switching into video mode. Holding it up, she scanned Killian slowly from his feet, up his long legs and torso until finally coming to rest on his face, his eyes shining with apparent mischief.

"Ms. Lucas, the lovely Lady Swan has pointed out to me that I am very limited in my wardrobe choices and that this particular ensemble is, for all intents and purposes, my uniform." He grinned at Emma. "Is that what you needed?"

"Perfect," she smiled, as she felt a hand slide up her arm and into her hair. Turning sharply, she met Ruby's wolfish grin, her friend looking pointedly from her to Killian.

"Killian," Ruby all but purred, ""Looking good, as ever." He bowed rakishly and Ruby laughed loudly while Emma just shook her head at his nonsense. "I have come to steal Emma away as we are about to make a move. Mary Margaret is looking for all the world like she's about to join this pool game and I, for one, still have plans for her."

The brunette looked Emma up and down, before turning the same attention on Killian. "Unless you want to stay here and _play_ -" Ruby's emphasis here was nothing short of spectacular - "with Killian?" Emma felt the blush creeping up her cheeks but she forced a laugh, a sudden burst of inspiration seeing her whip out her phone and snap a picture of Ruby.

Ruby looked quizzically at her. "Something that makes me laugh," Emma said and she linked her arm with Ruby's, preparing to walk away. She ignored the way Killian's face fell, just for a moment, before he plastered the overconfident smile back in place.

"Have a good evening ladies," he said, his voice just a bit too bright to be real. "I certainly intend to."

* * *

He stood and watched her walk away, silently berating himself for his parting words. For a man becoming more fascinated by Emma Swan with every interaction, he needed to reevaluate his choices. There was little time for introspection, however, as Robin came up beside him.

"Might be time to move on, mate," he said, nodding his head in the direction of the groom, who was settling down at a nearby table."We don't want Dave making himself too comfortable."

"Indeed we do not," replied Killian and he made his way to the groom, hoisting him up by the elbow and steering him towards the door. David was already showing the effects of more alcohol than he was used to and he leaned into Killian and slurred in his ear.

"Saw you talking to Emma. She's really great, you know, really great."

"I am well aware of the Lady Swan's charms, Dave."

"Oh I know," David laughed, stopping to look intently at Killian. He poked a finger into Killian's chest by way of emphasis. "We all know you two should...well, you know. Ruby came up with this whole bingo thing..." His voice trailed off as if realising he had said too much.

"Would this bingo thing explain Emma's need to photograph me?" Alcohol had definitely loosened David's tongue and it was time to press his advantage. David nodded sheepishly.

"I wasn't supposed to tell you," he sighed. Killian stared at him intently until David had to look away. It was too easy, really. "The girls all have a list of things to find, you know, good hair or a tight butt or white teeth or whatever."

"Like someone with an accent, for example?" Killian interrupted.

"Yeah, that sort of stuff." David paused and turned to face Killian again, eyes wide with understanding. "That one could be you!" Killian clapped him indulgently on the shoulder, shaking his head at the effect of minimal alcohol on a normally intelligent human being.

"Yes, Dave. I am suspecting that is the point. But it seems the effort may be in vain, because the lady in question appears uninterested." Deciding it was time to change the subject, Killian did a quick visual sweep of the group before steering David towards their next destination - his favourite Irish pub.

There was no sign of the bride and her entourage when they arrived and the men quickly commandeered the dart board, Killian leaving Robin in charge of David and the sharp objects as he went to organise a tab at the bar. As he waited, a hand clapped down on his shoulder and he turned quickly to face the newcomer.

He grinned as he came face to face with a short, bearded man, a worn red baseball cap pulled down hard on his head and found himself pulled into a bear hug.

"Smee!" he exclaimed, "What are you doing here, you old bastard?"

"The band needed a bass player for the night," the man answered, gesturing towards the stage area. "What about you, Cap? Still playing?"

"Just for fun. Nothing beyond my own living room these days."

"That's a shame, man," Smee said with a shake of his head. "You were really good. Should get you up with us tonight."

Killian laughed. "No one wants to hear that, mate." The older man patted Killian's cheek with a sly grin.

"The ladies would sure like to watch you do it, though." Smee winked mischievously and Killian couldn't help but grin at his old friend. "Better get back, but we'll catch up later, yeah?"

"We shall."

* * *

Walking into the pub, Emma breathed a sigh of relief. Their last couple of venues had been all sickly sweet cocktails and thumping baselines and it had taken every bit of Ruby's considerable positivity to keep her going. The bingo list was deep in her pocket, guilt at so flippantly ending things with Killian eating away until she knew she was just going through the motions for Mary Margaret's sake.

 _Why_ she felt so rattled was a little less clear.

Rum and cola in hand, she drifted towards the group, their laughter cutting across the rock standards being played by the live band. Definitely more her style, she thought, as she cast an eye over the musicians.

It was only on the second pass that her eyes stopped on the dark haired guitarist on the left side of the stage. The guitarist who was, without a doubt, Killian Jones.

Of course he played the damn guitar. It was on the freaking list.

He was good too, his fingers moving deftly over the strings in a way that was slightly mesmerizing. More than slightly, she realised, when Ruby snuck up on her, satisfied smirk firmly in place.

"Isn't that on your list?" she asked in a voice that made it clear she had no doubt it was. She didn't even try to hide her appreciation for Killian on the stage, fanning herself in an over exaggerated manner as she watched.

Emma looked at Ruby suspiciously, a conspiracy theory suddenly formulating in her mind. "It is. But you knew that, didn't you?"

"I wrote the lists, Ems, so of course I knew." Ruby's voice was deliberately light and breezy, a telltale sign in Emma's book.

"Not what I meant," Emma began, but Ruby interrupted her before she could finish her accusation.

"Is that our beautiful bride calling me?" Ruby asked, "I'm sure I heard her." She turned quickly to leave, but peered back over her shoulder before she disappeared. "Photographic evidence, Ems. Don't forget!"

Emma took a long sip of her drink, asking herself serious questions about her friend choices. She pulled the piece of paper out from her pocket, shaking her head at the remaining items. If her suspicions were correct, it had been one of Ruby's more elaborate plots to force her back into the dating world - funny, then, that Ruby would think she would be convinced by an egotist like Killian.

As she raised her eyes to watch him again, his fingers raked through his hair between chords, a gesture that Emma would almost have thought was a sign of nerves if she didn't know him better. He looked happy, but his face was lacking its usual confidence, she realised, and as he pressed his lips to to the microphone to sing the harmonies she was sure she heard a tiny wobble in the opening notes.

Photographic evidence, Ruby had said, and there was something about this moment and the combination of enjoyment and nerves that Emma felt compelled to capture. She lined up her phone, focusing on him as he grinned at the boys from the bachelor party who were dancing - jostling and bumping, really - in front of the stage and took the picture. She stared at it for a moment, a picture of a man she was not quite sure she had pegged correctly any more.

"Come and dance, Emma. You haven't danced with me yet!" A slurred voice interrupted her thoughts as Mary Margaret grabbed her by the elbow, sloshing the bright blue drink she held in one hand onto her shoes. "Did you cross off the instrument one on your list? Because Killian plays guitar…" The bride sighed deeply, then grinned as conspiratorily as intoxication would allow at Emma. "Don't tell David, but he's pretty hot with a guitar in his hand, don't you think?"

"Not bad," she agreed, realising her conspiracy theory was gaining ground - and participants - but that questioning the current suspect would be pointless. Especially as she was being dragged towards the band, Mary Margaret weaving drunkenly through the people until she and Emma were firmly at the stage, directly in front of Killian himself.

Mary Margaret waved wildly at him until he winked back at her, then proceeded to spin Emma under her arm. After a near fall, Emma subtly turned Mary Margaret towards David who had appeared at her shoulder, watching with a smirk as they melted drunkenly into each other. Killian caught her eye, both eyebrows raised in approval as he mouthed, "Smooth, Swan." She took her own tiny bow, eliciting a snort of laughter from him that sent a wave of relief washing over her. He didn't seem angry at her earlier dismissal, and for some reason that seemed to be important.

The song ended, and the bass player leaned into his microphone, "Let's hear it for my old mate, Cap, for letting me talk him into joining us for a couple." A roar went up from the crowd as Killian stood the guitar against the speaker and he quickly shook hands with the other band members, saving the small man with the red cap and the bass till last, pulling him into a warm hug.

As Killian jumped down from the stage, he was surrounded by well wishers, his mates clapping him on the back and the girls hugging him. Emma stood back, watching as he accepted the congratulations graciously, until he broke through and came to stand next to her. They spoke almost at once.

"Want to check the picture I took?"

"Was that on your list, Swan?"

Emma did a double take at his words. "How do you know about that?"

Killian smiled and gestured towards the groom, still swaying drunkenly with his fiancee wrapped in his arms. "Love's young dream over there gets quite chatty when he's a few sheets to the wind."

"Something else they have in common, apparently," Emma grinned. "Though I suspect Ruby is the actual mastermind behind this whole idea."

"Without the shadow of a doubt, love," he laughed softly, before biting down on his bottom lip, fingers scratching at a spot just behind his ear. "Perhaps I can buy you a drink, Swan, and we can discuss our revenge."

As she opened her mouth, she fully expected to hear a refusal come from her lips. "Only if you tell me how you ended up on stage with a man that calls you Cap," were the words she actually spoke. He smiled, a genuine smile that had lines crinkling at the corners of his eyes, sparkling blue with humour and something else she wasn't quite sure of.

"It seems only fair, Swan. What will it be?"

* * *

From the booth in the back of the pub, Emma watched with a grin as the happy couple danced drunkenly, ignoring any attempt by Ruby to remind them they were supposed to be celebrating separately.

Emma shoved the list back in her pocket just as Killian returned, placing a fresh rum and cola on the table and sliding into the booth opposite her.

"Glad to have found a fellow rum drinker, Swan," he said, raising his glass to her. "Have you always had the drinking habits of a pirate?"

She nodded. "Yo ho ho," she replied, clinking her glass with his. "What about you?"

"After my time in the Royal Navy, it seemed appropriate." Her eyes widened at this revelation. "That is also the answer to your other question - the gentleman who shanghaied me into playing tonight is an old shipmate who took to calling me Cap when I professed an interest in that career path."

"How did I not know you were in the Navy?"

"You never asked, love. And it's not a time I speak of often - too many bad memories associated. A story for another day perhaps?" Something in his voice sent a wave of regret washing over her. She had been so sure she knew Killian Jones - knew his type, knew his game plan - but tonight was making her think she actually knew very little. Something her friends had clearly realised, she thought with a snort. Killian looked curiously at her, his eyebrows furrowed.

"I don't suppose you've been on a boat recently?" His laugh was warm and rich and made Emma want nothing more than to hear it again.

"Perhaps it's time to expedite the process and just hand over the list, Swan." He held his hand out expectantly, eyes twinkling with mischief. Emma sighed heavily, but reached into her pocket and pulled out the now tattered piece of paper, handing it to him.

His eyes scanned the list, nodding in places, chuckling in others. "It's like it was written purposely to direct you to me, Swan," he said with a wink when he finished.

"You think?" Emma answered, her eyes sweeping the room until she met Ruby's eyes. The brunette grinned and waved at her, before gesturing forcefully for her to turn back to the man in front of her. The man who was looking at her with a softness in his eyes that should be immediately activating her flight reflex.

But it wasn't. Not even a little bit.

"Remind me to buy Miss Lucas a drink, sometime," he said quietly, running his finger lightly over the back of Emma's hand as it rested on the table. It was a tiny movement, the slightest brush really, but Emma felt it all the way to her toes, closing her eyes for just a moment to enjoy it.

When she opened them, Killian was looking at the list again. "Well, Swan, it appears we have a few outstanding items to deal with. May I?" He gestured towards the seat beside her and when she nodded, he walked around and slid in next to her, his shoulder just brushing hers. He placed the paper on the table between them and ran his finger down the items. Emma pulled a stubby pencil from her purse and handed it to him.

"Accents and uniforms we've covered, I believe?" Emma nodded as he crossed those off with a flourish. "Clearly I play the guitar so we can cross off instrument and as I was out on The Jolly Roger last weekend, that takes care of boats also."

"You went on a boat named after Captain Hook's ship?" Emma interrupted.

"No Swan, I _own_ a boat named after Hook's ship. You are easily distracted, aren't you? Focus, love."

She punched him lightly on the arm. Clearly she hadn't completely misread the man, she thought with a wry smile. Killian rubbed the spot vigorously, a look of mock offence on his face but he went on undeterred. He drew a line through _Something/someone that makes you laugh_.

"Apology accepted, Swan. Moving on."

"But I…" Emma started, but he put a finger to her lips and shushed her.

"Accepted. Move on." He tapped the pencil against the word _hottie_ and gestured around the pub. "Did you find one of those?" His lips were curled up in a smirk that made it clear he knew exactly who had fit that bill but Emma just shrugged noncommittally and held out her hand for the pencil. She crossed it out with a flourish of her own.

Killian grinned at her, "I must confess I am curious about whether something caught your eye, Swan."

Emma bit down on her bottom lip as she considered her response. The comfortable feeling of their banter was making her feel almost reckless and the smell of his cologne and his jacket and him was only adding to the sensation. She pulled her phone from her pocket and opened her gallery, handing him the phone.

"Are you sure, Swan?" he asked. She nodded and he started to swipe through the pictures. He paused at the one of him on the stage, a soft smile coming to his lips. "I really enjoyed playing again." Emma squeezed his arm and he covered her hand with his for just a moment.

He kept scrolling through various pictures of the ladies dancing, grinning at a selfie Ruby had taken of she and Emma before stopping again at a picture of the bride and groom-to-be, Mary Margaret smiling at the camera as David looked only at her with eyes full of love and hope for the future. He put the phone down and picked up the stubby pencil, tapping it thoughtfully near the statement about true love before drawing a line across the words.

"I didn't believe for a long time, you know, Swan. My heart was a mess. " Emma breathed in deeply, his words an exact match for the way she had felt herself for so long. "But I see these two and I have hope. And then…" His voice trailed off.

Emma turned to face him. "Then what?" she asked quietly, her green eyes meeting his blue ones and for a moment, all she could think of was closing the gap between them and touching her lips to his. Killian reached out and looped a lock of her hair behind her ear, his fingers lingering just slightly longer than necessary, a soft smile playing across his lips.

"Then you have a moment -" he paused, absently scrolling the photo gallery as he spoke. He stopped suddenly, a wide grin spreading across his face "- when you realise a beautiful woman has a picture of your arse on her phone!" He held it up to Emma, his shoulders shaking in laughter. She felt a flush of embarrassment creeping up her cheeks, but took the pencil from his hand and scratched a solid line through the _Free Space_ on the list, fixing her eyes on him when she was done.

"Can hardly blame you, Swan, my arse is the stuff of legends."

"Agreed." Emma and Killian looked up in surprise as Ruby slid into the booth opposite them, a wolfish grin on her face as she looked from one to the other. "Your ass is quite something. But I am here to finish up our little game for the night." She swooped on the sheet of paper on the table, scanning it quickly and nodding in approval at them both.

"Not bad at all," she said. "Seven out of eight items. No one else managed more than two or three."

Emma eyed her friend suspiciously. "Were they supposed to?"

"Nope," Ruby said with a wink, standing up to leave them but Killian reached out to stop her.

"Before you go, Lady Lucas, would you mind taking a snap of Emma and I?" He looked questioningly at Emma and she nodded agreement. Ruby grabbed Emma's phone as Killian draped an arm around Emma's shoulder, pulling her in close. She relaxed into him, her head angled into his as they smiled at the camera.

"Say 'Thank you Ruby,'" said the photographer as she lined up the shot and clicked. Checking the picture, she smiled knowingly and said, "Oh, that works."

When Ruby handed the phone back to her, Emma stared at the picture, not recognising the girl who looked so relaxed and happy and taken aback by joy on the face of the man she was snuggled into. Again she waited for the fear to set in, but it didn't come. His arm was still around her and she wanted it to be there.

Killian leaned in to take a better look, his breath warm on her neck, thoughts of his lips on that delicate skin flitting through her mind before she could stop them.

"Well Swan, I may not be a photographer, but I can definitely picture us together." Emma could _hear_ his smirk before she turned to look at him, an exaggerated expression of disbelief firmly fixed on her face. She said not a word, but sighed heavily before picking up the pencil and scribbling out the remaining line on the list.

 _A cheesy pick up line that has worked_

Leading with her hip, Emma slid from the booth, pushing him along as she did. The list was grasped firmly in her hand. He stood just before he landed on the floor and Emma held out a hand to him. "You better dance with me before I change my mind."

Pulling her to her feet, Killian brushed his lips over the back of her hand, the spark almost visible between them. His eyes never left her face and Emma felt her tongue dart inexplicably across her suddenly too dry lips, Killian's blue eyes darkening in response.

He lead her by the hand, weaving through the crowd, her body humming in a way she had thought it never would again with the nearness of him. Ruby was dancing, surrounded by friends, and Emma paused as they neared her, leaning in close as she folded the piece of paper that had started everything into her friend's hand.

"Bingo," she whispered.


	4. All I Want for Christmas

_A/N: For my lovely jscoutfinch as her GF Christmas gift. The cheesy lines are not of my own creation - thank you Google!_

 **All I Want For Christmas**

"Well, I am _not_ paying for this disaster." The shrill voice rang in Emma's ears as yet another unhappy mother jabbed her red painted nails at the images on her computer screen. The small girl featured in the photos sniffled beside her mother, the occasional sob still racking her small body. The lollipop in her hand was doing little to calm her and Emma couldn't say she blamed the kid.

This was the kind of thing that turned kids off Santa for good.

It was certainly the kind of thing that was turning _her_ off Santa for good. As she reassured yet another irate customer that of course there would be no charge for the photographs, she caught a glimpse of Santa, slouched in his sleigh, his eyes narrowing at the waiting children.

Not that there were too many of them left. This last mother had been particularly vocal, and coupled with the disconcerting wailing from the little girl, the waiting crowd had definitely thinned.

Where the hell had Mary Margaret found this guy?

Emma stalked towards him, doing everything in her power to look imposing while dressed in green tights and pointy shoes. "Come on, Santa, can you quit scaring the kids?"

Santa looked her up and down derisively. "Tell you what, sister, how about you get with the snappy snappy and I'll bring the Christmas cheer? Last time I checked I'm the one wearing the red suit around here." Emma was well aware she had been dismissed and made her way back to her camera, shaking her head.

"Come on kid, I haven't got all day," Santa barked at the next in line. The little boy was cute as hell, all dark hair and dimpled cheeks, his smile wavering slightly as he approached the sleigh. Santa's eyes flashed as he clambered towards his lap. "Woah, woah, woah, where do you think you are going, kid? On the seat. Don't touch the big guy."

The child's bottom lip had a definite wobble as Emma lined up her shot, hoping that maybe this time she could get a halfway decent picture before all hell broke loose. Again.

It wasn't to be.

Christmas had never been her holiday - years in the foster care system followed by years of bad romantic choices had put paid to that. And yet every year she ended up behind this camera, the only employee of her best friend's promotions company that had the combination of photography and tech skills to run the equipment. And put out the parental fires apparently.

At least last year's Santa was happy.

The little boy was only moments away from meltdown, his parents hovering beside her. The father looked anxious, reassuring his son gently, coaxing him to smile with a stuffed monkey toy he had pulled from a backpack. The mother, on the other hand, was stalking angrily, her heels clicking on the tiled floors.

"This is ridiculous," she snapped at Emma. "Since when is it a picture with Grumpy Claus? If you think for one minute I am paying for this…"

Emma sighed deeply, holding in her desire to snap right back by the finest thread. She took a business card from under the counter and slid it to the dark haired woman. "Ma'am," she said through clenched teeth, "I hear you. But I just take the pictures. Perhaps you should talk to the person who does the hiring?"

"Well if I have anything to do with it, they'll be doing the firing too," she threatened. Her demeanor changed as she spoke to her son, her voice softening as she held out her hand to him. "Roland, sweetie, Santa has to feed his reindeer. We'll come back again when he is less... _busy_. Let's go." Her husband gathered up the kid and they hurried away, leaving Emma glaring at Santa, who just shrugged his shoulders and wandered off towards the gingerbread cottage that doubled as a break room.

As she placed the "Santa is feeding his reindeer" sign across the entry, Emma felt her body slump. She was not going to make it through two more weeks of this guy - the tiny modicum of Christmas spirit she had draining away with every new drama.

* * *

Dragging herself back to the mall the next day was one of the hardest things Emma had ever done. Another day placating angry mothers and crying kids was not anyone's idea of a good time and the temptation to call Mary Margaret and tell her she was sick was strong. Very strong.

Her head pounded harder with every step she took towards Santa's grotto so it was hardly a lie.

The grotto was empty when she arrived, a sigh of relief escaping her at the thought of a few extra minutes before the Santa-wrangling began. A part of her hoped against hope the angry Momma bear from yesterday had made good on her promise to complain and complain loudly, but the chances of soft hearted Mary Margaret actually following it through seemed unlikely.

Emma was surprised to find the door to the gingerbread cottage unlocked when she went to change. She pushed the door open cautiously, before stepping into the small space - and right into the red clad figure that had been obscured by the door.

Strong arms came around her to steady her. "All right there, love?" came a slightly muffled voice, his beard slipping in their collision. Emma sprang back, the voice warm and softly accented and nothing at all like the raspy grumbles she had become accustomed too.

"Who are you?" she asked quickly, taking in the lean frame and the twinkling blue eyes that stood before her, his red jacket hanging open to reveal a form-fitted white undershirt and just the hint of defined abs.

He merely raised a knowing eyebrow at her in reply. Oh good, Emma thought, Grumpy Claus had been replaced with a wiseass. A wiseass with very, very blue eyes that were definitely wandering over her as they stood face to face.

"Let me guess? Santa?" She answered her own question with a sigh. He straightened his beard, revealing soft, pink lips that were quirked up in a grin.

"Well, that is the name I am going by professionally, love." He winked mischievously and Emma rolled her eyes. And fought desperately to ignore the little flip of her stomach that happened at the same time. It had been a long time since she had felt that spark of interest, but there it was, fueling her curiosity about just what she was going to find under that beard.

"And what shall I call you, my elfish offsider?" he asked, holding out his hand to her. She paused before grasping it firmly, afraid to confirm the physical charge that she felt in the room by making skin to skin contact. But as his fingers curled around hers there was no denying the tiny shiver that made its way through her body.

"Emma. Emma Swan," she answered quickly, desperate not to stumble over her own name in the haze. Santa smiled softly, his hand still holding hers although they had long since stopped shaking.

"Well, Emma Swan," he said quietly, the playfulness gone now and replaced with a softer, more sincere tone. "Allow me to secure my rather attractive belly here and I will give you some privacy to get ready." He stepped away from her, placing the padded stomach against his own lean one, securing it with the ties of his jacket. Arms outstretched, he looked questioningly at her.

"What do you think, Swan? Will I pass for the man himself?" In a moment of madness, Emma reached up to adjust his fur trimmed hat, his smile growing as her body came into his personal space.

"You'll do now," she said quickly, hoping the tremor in her voice was not as obvious to him as it was to her. He thanked her softly and made his way out to the grotto.

Emma sank down onto the wooden bench in the cottage, a few steadying breaths required before she faced the holiday onslaught with a _very_ different co-worker. She hadn't even seen his face properly and she was rattled, overtaken by the kind of physical urges she had thought long forgotten. She forced herself into her tights and pointed shoes, mind spinning at the idea of working closely with _this_ Santa.

Pushing her way out into the grotto, she expected to find him seated in his sleigh, but he was nowhere to be seen. A childish giggle grabbed her attention and she turned to find Santa, crouched down on his haunches and deep in conversation with a small blonde girl. The child's face was alight with wonder - certainly the first time that had happened this Christmas season - and her mother's eyes were firmly planted on the man in the red suit. Apparently Emma was not alone in her reaction to the sparkle of those blue eyes and the lilting voice.

That was _not_ a tiny surge of jealousy, either.

She busied herself at her workstation, snippets of his conversation with the little girl drifting back and making her smile despite her best efforts to ignore the effect he was having on her. The mother laughed at something he said, a very different sound to her daughter's giggle and Emma's stomach twisted traitorously again.

"Perhaps I should sit on Santa's knee and tell him what I want for Christmas?" the woman purred, her hand on Santa's arm doing nothing to ease the uncomfortable feeling in Emma's gut. She held her breath for his reaction, but he merely chuckled, ruffled the little girl's hair and walked towards his sleigh. He passed deliberately close to Emma, winking at her before leaning in close to her ear.

"I think that woman is flirting with me, Swan," he whispered, his breath hot on her skin.

"You don't miss a trick, do you Santa?" she muttered back. "If you're lucky you'll get your Christmas wish." Emma regretted the bite in her voice before the words were out but he appeared unconcerned as his eyes ran appreciatively up and down her form.

" _She_ is not what I am hoping for for Christmas, love."

He was in position in the sleigh, looking every inch the jovial old elf, before the flush of heat that made its way up Emma's cheeks at his tone subsided.

She was not even going to consider what he made her hope for, Christmas or not.

* * *

"Looks like things are running a little smoother today."

Mary Margaret appeared behind Emma as she was watching Santa convince a shy little boy to come that little bit closer, his voice quiet and reassuring while his smile was warm and real and reflected clearly in his eyes. The child had been clearly reluctant when he had joined the queue with his parents, sobbing intermittently as he waited, his lip wobbling and his grip tightening on his mother's hand with every step closer. Years in this role had made Emma acutely aware of potential disasters and she knew this little guy was only minutes away from full scale wailing.

But she hadn't counted on Santa.

As the child sidled up to him in the sleigh, a wan smile on his face as he climbed up on the seat, Emma turned to her employer.

"Where did you find this guy?"

"Killian?" A name, thought Emma, filing it away for an appropriate opportunity. "We are starting up some pirate birthday parties on a sailing ship and he is going to run them. He was in the office when I fielded a terrible call about Leroy and he suggested he fill in as a sort of job trial as he will be working with kids." Mary Margaret smiled appreciatively as she watched the small boy giggle at him, before giving him a high five and sliding in close for a picture.

"Looks like he passed that test," Emma said as she lined up the shot, casting a quick glance at the happy mother beside her, nodding encouragingly at her son as Santa - _Killian_ \- directed his attention towards the camera.

"Oh he's wonderful," the woman gushed. "The best Santa I have ever seen. Lucky you to get to work with him all day." She giggled conspiratorially to Emma. "You'd stay on the naughty list for a voice like that wouldn't you?"

Emma looked to Mary Margaret in a panic, unable to find a way to respond appropriately to that statement. Clearly sensing her friend's discomfort, Mary Margaret grinned at the woman, pulling her a few steps away from Emma. "Oh yes, Killian is wonderful. He's going to be running pirate birthday parties in the Spring on a real ship - perhaps you'd like a brochure? I think there's a picture of him in costume..."

Breathing heavily in relief, Emma couldn't help but chuckle at Mary Margaret's opportunism. She had a feeling, given the volume of well dressed mothers that had come through the grotto today, that the pirate parties would be very popular.

And she wasn't at all imagining those twinkling eyes and the firm torso she had seen earlier in pirate leather. She was not…

"Swan?" His voice brought her back to reality with a jolt. "I would imagine my gallant steeds are parched by this juncture - as am I. Perhaps a break is in order?"

"Sure thing, _Killian_ ," she said pointedly and he shook his head sadly, although his eyes were clearly smiling.

"Come now Swan, we all know how the saying goes - if you don't believe, you don't receive." His voice lowered dangerously as he once again moved that little bit closer than necessary. Emma's senses were on alert, her skin tingling at his nearness. "Surely there must be _something_ you want from Santa this year?"

There was no way he could have missed her sharp intake of breath but she was saved from responding by Mary Margaret's return.

"Killian, I am _very_ excited about you," she gushed. "You are going to be a fabulous addition to our company, don't you think Emma?" Emma just nodded, still unsure of her ability to speak in coherent sentences, jumbled thoughts of blue eyes and naughty wish lists still running through her mind.

"Swan certainly looks excited, so we can only hope." This was accompanied by a wink that had Emma wavering between punching him hard and dragging him by the beard and kissing him like he had never been kissed before.

Mary Margaret just laughed at him. "Go and have your break, Santa," she grinned and gave him a shove towards the cottage. As he walked away, she turned her attention to Emma, one eyebrow raised far too knowingly.

Emma busied herself with logging out of the computer but she knew it was a pointless exercise.

"Emma?" her friend started, "Is something going on with you and Santa?" Emma could almost hear the cogs turning in Mary Margaret's head, her eyes shining with the very thought. "Because that would be a great idea. Fantastic. He's perfect, actually."

She had to put a stop to this before her friend called in the caterers. She had her damn phone out already.

"I haven't even seen his face, Mary Margaret! I met him four hours ago. You and David might have this whole 'love at first sight' thing going on, but it's not really my style."

That urge to punch something was resurfacing as she looked at the smug expression on her friend's face.

"But you are attracted to him? Don't deny it, Emma, I saw the way you reacted to him. I know you."

Emma's shoulders slumped. The woman was a relentless relationship tyrant despite her pixie cut and fresh-faced appearance and Emma knew it all too well.

"Fine. There's something hot about that accent and seeing what was under the jacket did.. _.things_...to me." She regretted admitting that as soon as the words left her mouth, Mary Margaret's eyes widening. "A bit. But it's hardly love's young dream."

"Leaving the whole 'you saw his pecs' thing aside." The "for now" was heavily implied. "What's the harm, sweetie? He's an attractive guy, you're gorgeous, why shouldn't you have a bit of fun? Live a little, Emma, don't close yourself off to the possibility of love."

No no no. Emma wasn't giving her any traction with the l-word.

"How do I know he's attractive? He could be a troll who works out for all I know."

Mary Margaret tapped quickly on her phone and held out an image to her. She couldn't mistake those eyes despite the expertly applied eyeliner that surrounded them, it was him undoubtedly. But instead of red velvet, he was dressed in tight black leather, shirt unbuttoned deeper than was strictly necessary, showing of a dusting of dark hair on his muscled chest. His dark hair looked wild and windswept - the cynic in Emma wondered how long it took in front of the mirror to look that unkempt - and a carefully manicured scruff covered his chin.

He was possibly the most attractive man she had ever seen. Ever.

"Fuck."

"Indeed," Mary Margaret smirked. "Perhaps you sh…"

Emma held out a hand to stop her mid thought. "Don't you say it. Just stand there and gloat silently. Count the millions you are going to rake in from those freaking pirate parties." Her friend had the good grace to look slightly embarrassed. Emma looked to the gingerbread cottage where she assumed he was changing. She couldn't go in there, not now, not knowing what she knew. She looked down at her tights and elf shoes and sighed, shaking her head.

"Come on," she said. "I'll just go to lunch like this."

They were halfway to a coffee shop before she realised her bag was still in the cottage. Emma looked at Mary Margaret, the satisfied smile on her friend's face clear evidence she was still considering the leather clad gold mine she had discovered.

"By the way, lunch is on you."

* * *

It was only the sheer believability that he brought to his role as Santa that got Emma through the next couple of days. She could almost forget the image of the hot as hell pirate when she watched him charm small child after small child - not to mention their parents - the epitome of Christmas cheer crafting perfect opportunities for her to take her pictures every time. She was glad she had made Mary Margaret pay for lunch - at the rate photo sales were going she could damn well buy her several dinners too. Each picture was more delightful than the one before as he worked his magic on the most reluctant of participants.

And none were more more reluctant than Emma herself.

Nevertheless, when he sauntered towards her work station, blue eyes flashing and his lips quirked in a flirtatious grin, she couldn't fight the flush of heat that coursed through her. She had woken more than once in a sweat, unable to remember the details of her dreams but knowing it was him that had set her skin aflame. Normally, she scoffed at a cheesy line, but somehow his collection of Christmas related ones, whether whispered close to her in that lilting accent or brazen as hell in front of a client, made her stomach twist with longing in a most disturbing way.

Emma Swan didn't do flirting - she never had - but something about this man was making the tiny voice of Mary Margaret that lived in her head take over from her common sense.

"What say we join in some reindeer games, Swan?" Her body tingled as he raised his eyebrows at her, his smile wicked but his blue eyes held something slightly different.

Her mouth was moving before her brain had kicked into gear, her voice with a hard edge brought on by her nerves. "I don't think you could handle playing with me, Santa." He paused at that, surprise clouding his features for the briefest moment. Emma looked away quickly, composing herself, preparing herself for his comeback, but when she met his eyes they had softened and he stepped back.

"Quite likely, Swan, quite likely." His smile was tighter as he walked towards the waiting children, summoning the next one to join in him in the sleigh. Emma bit down on her bottom lip, not sure what had shifted but sure that something had.

For the rest of the session, he was busy with a never ending stream of small visitors. He made no move to engage her, his smile still warm and genuine when their eyes met but the cheek and the mischief that she had fought against enjoying for so long was somehow gone. Emma tried not to dwell on how much she missed it.

Just before their day was over, a familiar face appeared in the waiting area. The curly haired boy held his father's hand tightly, his eyes anxious and no sign of the dimples Emma remembered so clearly from his first visit to Santa. The mother who had been instrumental in Killian's appearance was nowhere to be seen, just the father who crouched down next to his son, speaking quiet words of encouragement. When Killian saw the boy's reluctance, he made his way over to the child, holding out a gloved hand for him to shake. With a small shove from his father, the boy walked with Killian to the sleigh, the man pointing out various items around the grotto as the child became comfortable.

Emma watched, still amazed at the power he had to put the most nervous child at ease with his quiet turn of phrase and his gentle humour. It was in such contrast to the flirtatious scoundrel - a persona she had clearly linked with black leather and eyeliner ever since Mary Margaret had shared that picture.

"Well he is just made for this job, isn't he?" The boy's father had come to stand beside her, smiling happily at Killian and his boy as they patted the reindeer that stood next to the sleigh."When he said he was doing this, I laughed," the man continued, his accent not unlike Killian's. "He's not been one for Christmas for a long time. But he has always had a way with Roland."

Emma was surprised. "You know him?" she asked.

The man looked her up and down, a warm smile breaking out on his face. "You must be Emma," he said, and she nodded curiously. "Oh yes, of course you are." He paused and shook his head apologetically. "How rude of me. I'm Robin Locksley, long time friend of Mr Claus over there."

Emma shook the proffered hand, still unsure how he knew her name. A fact that was obviously evident on her face as he continued. "Our man there has told me all about you - doesn't shut up about the gorgeous lass he is working with…" His voice trailed off and he looked sheepishly at Killian, who was still so involved with Roland that he hadn't noticed the adults talking, before looking back at Emma. "Probably shouldn't have mentioned that. Our secret, love?"

"Sure, sure," Emma said, busying herself with her camera as Killian and Roland settled themselves in the sleigh. She was not sure what to make of the fact he had talked about her to his friend, not now that something seemed to have subtly changed between them. She snapped a collection of pictures, keeping herself focused on the boy throughout. Robin chatted easily with her, his natural friendliness making up for any lack of conversation on her part.

The pictures finished and printed, Killian waved good bye to Roland, winking surreptitiously at his father before stopping at her workstation. "Another day done, Swan. I'll not keep you hanging around, I'm sure you have plans this close to Christmas." Before she could answer him, he was headed towards the gingerbread cottage, Emma watching helplessly as he went.

Mary Margaret's voice was all but shouting in her head, reminding her to take a chance, to have some fun. She packed the equipment away quickly, steeling herself to step outside her comfort zone and break every man-related rule she had worked so hard to develop. She stood at the door to the cottage, taking several deep breaths before she pushed it open.

He was standing in just his red trousers and close fitted undershirt, his beard and hat abandoned on the bench beside him. All the words that had been on the tip of Emma's tongue left her for a moment as she realised Mary Margaret's picture had understated the effect of the man in person. His hair was tousled and untidy as if he had run his hands through it repeatedly, something Emma felt an unmitigated urge to do herself at that moment.

Her eyes ran hungrily down his torso, unable to contain the need to drink him in, want screaming through every fibre of her being. But somehow, he seemed not to realise the effect he was having on her, stepping towards her with sadness in his eyes.

"Emma, I wanted to apologise for my poor form," he began. "Clearly I stepped over a line with my flirting and the last thing I wanted to do was upset you. I confess it has been some time since a woman made me...well, suffice it to say I found myself a little out of my depth and if I have offended you I am sincerely sorry." Emma's eyes widened as she began to comprehend his words. He thought she was offended, that the sharpness in her attempt to flirt back was something other than her own insecurity at play. It was almost laughable…

"Swan?" He had stepped closer again, doubt still darkening his blue eyes. Her decision was made in a moment - ever a woman of action rather than words, there seemed only one way to make it clear how wrong he was.

She fisted her hands in the fabric of his undershirt, pulling him towards her as her lips crashed into his. His body tensed momentarily, before she felt his arms come around her and he relaxed into the kiss. The spark between them was unlike anything she had ever felt, his mouth working hungrily against hers before she parted her lips and allowed his tongue entrance. His hand found its way to her hair, tangling in her blonde curls as he deepened the kiss, her fingers tensing and releasing his shirt as heat pooled in her belly.

When they stopped to breathe, she bit at his bottom lip playfully, eliciting a longing moan from him that did nothing to slow her desire. With the hand still anchored in her hair, he angled her head gently, his lips working their way down the long column of her neck, nipping and nuzzling every inch of skin. His lips moved against her as he spoke. "So you're not upset then, love?"

Emma shook her head, walking him back towards the bench seat and pushing him down before lowering herself into his lap. Her hands went to his dark hair, fingers tangling in it as she found his lips again. His arms snaked around her waist, holding her hard against him as their tongues curled around each other in a game of give and take that left them both breathless. Emma could feel the hard ridge of him against her, clearly wanting her as much as she wanted him. It was all she could do not to grind herself against him, seeking relief from the desire that had set her whole body aflame.

She heard her name slip breathily from him she started to move above him, her need so strong she could no longer ignore it. His hands gripped her hips, slowing her movement as he nuzzled his nose against hers, steadying the pace as they both breathed deeply. "We need to slow down, love," he whispered. "God knows I want you, but not like this." He pulled back slightly, his thumb caressing her cheek as he peppered her skin with soft little kisses.

Emma knew he was right but the pout came unbidden, and he chuckled as he ran his thumb along her bottom lip before kissing her gently once more. He rested his forehead against hers, fingers making lazy circles against her lower back as they sat together. "Let me woo you, Emma. You deserve more than some hurried assignation in a flimsy shed." His voice was still deep with desire, and Emma sighed deeply as she kissed him one last time, her lips lingering as long as she could manage.

She stood, one hand caressing his cheek as she did. He captured it in his, placing a kiss on her palm as his eyes locked with hers before releasing her. They said nothing as she prepared to leave, Killian's eyes following her every move as a soft smile played on his lips.

"Till tomorrow, then?" he said as she made her way out the door.

"Tomorrow."

* * *

She saw the unfamiliar object on her workstation well before she reached it. The Christmas themed reusable cup was steaming as she picked up the card that sat in front of it. The handwriting was looped and beautiful, somewhat of a contrast to the message.

 _Swan._

 _If you were one of my reindeer, you'd undoubtedly be Vixen._

 _Santa xx_

Emma snorted at the line, her stomach doing a little flip of anticipation as she looked around for him. She took a sip from the cup, the taste of hot chocolate just the way she liked it bringing a smile to her face. Killian was nowhere to be seen as she put her things away in the cottage, a flood of warmth coursing through her as she remembered their moment from the night before. Nor did he appear as she set up the equipment, her mind racing at the novelty of a man who went to this effort for her. It had been a long time since…

Who was she kidding? No man in her life had ever gone to this effort for her.

As the line to see Santa was starting to form, he appeared in full costume, eyes lighting as he saw her. She tipped her cup to him with a grin and he bowed ridiculously.

"Shall we spread some Christmas cheer, Swan?" he asked, waving to the waiting kids.

"I think you already started, Santa," Emma laughed as he made his way to his sleigh to start their day.

It was the same each morning - a gift and a card waiting for her as she arrived at work, no sign of the man himself until it was time to start the day.

One day it was a small box containing a glass swan ornament with the message, " _Do you celebrate Boxing Day, Swan? Because you look like the complete package."_

On another, two small notebooks entitled "Nice" and "Naughty". The card said only two words. " _You choose_."

With each passing day, Emma felt herself more drawn to him. It was no longer the heady pull of lust, though the urge to kiss him senseless yet again came over her from time to time, as the spiced scent of his cologne wafted past her in the grotto or he sidled past that fraction too close to be strictly professional - now she sought the comfort of his company, his friendship, just as much as the heat of his kiss.

She suspected there was a word for what she felt - but like would do for now.

On Christmas Eve, Emma found a well-loved copy of the Grinch wrapped on her table, his words inscribed on the first page.

 _What's the difference between you and the Grinch? The Grinch just stole Christmas, but you've stolen my heart…_

As always, he was nowhere to be seen as she put the gift away carefully, running her fingers over the flourished writing before she did. He was already chatting to a group of children when she emerged, giving her a quick wave and a hopeful smile before returning his attention to his small visitors.

The day stretched on interminably, as Christmas Eve is wont to do, made worse by the unrelenting stream of kids desperate for one last chance to finalise their Christmas lists. There was no moment for them to relax, to drop their Christmas personas for even a second and be themselves, to enjoy the newness of what was growing between them.

When the last of the children had gone home, eyes shining with excitement, and the mall staff scurried back and forth finishing last minute tasks before they could go home, Emma and Killian looked at one another and smiled.

"Time to pack up and go home, Swan?" he asked. Emma looked around at the grotto, an idea firming in her mind. Grabbing a small remote from her camera, she walked towards him, a wicked grin on her face. Killian raised an eyebrow curiously at her as she came towards his sleigh.

"I haven't had my turn to tell you what I want for Christmas, Santa," Emma breathed, relishing his expression as it changed from confusion to understanding. His smile turned feral as he inclined his head at her, beckoning her over to him.

"Well then, love, you better come and sit on Santa's lap and do just that." Emma wasted no time, settling herself on him and snaking her arms around his neck. He wrapped his own around her waist, and she pointed her remote at the camera and snapped a series of pictures. Realising her plan, his expression softened just a little as he pulled her in close for one or two more.

Emma shifted herself on his lap, moving her body deliberately to maximise the contact between them. He nipped at her ear, before growling at her. "So what do you want for Christmas, Emma?'

The way he said her name made her skin tingle, deep and wanting, and she hit the remote again as he nuzzled longingly at her neck.

"It's actually less of a what,'' she breathed as he nipped at her earlobe, "and more of a _who_ do I want for Christmas."

She slowly pulled down his beard, and lowered her lips to his. His fingers worked their way into her hair, pulling her in and deepening the kiss until their tongues clashed furiously together, every part of Emma's body alive at the touch of this man who was so much more than she had ever imagined.

Her finger pressed the remote again and again, wanting to remember this moment, the day when Christmas became just that little bit more. She pulled back from him slowly, pressing soft kisses to his cheeks, the tip of his nose, his forehead as he held her tight. She leaned in close to his ear, feeling him shudder as her warm breath tickled the sensitive skin, her lips moving against him as she spoke.

"So Santa, I hear you always come on Christmas Eve," she whispered into his ear. He leaned back, the initial shock on his face giving way to unbridled lust as she snapped the remote over and over, laughing as he launched himself at her for one more breathless kiss. His hand grasped hers, wrestling control of the remote from her as he did.

He looked knowingly at her, staring her down as his eyebrow lifted in an obscene display of sex. "Oh I won't be the only one, Swan," he said, enunciating each word precisely as he pressed the camera remote himself. "I have the stamina of a jolly fat man - I can go all night."

As she pulled him by the hand towards the gingerbread cottage, she had every intention of making him prove it.


End file.
